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Chapter 7

1030 Hours, March 23, 2547 (Military Calendar) /
Military Training Camp Utah, Australia
Earth

The air was getting thicker with smoke, and Manny knew that unless he reacted soon, he would be surrounded by enemy troops and would lose the battle. Crouched down behind a hastily made barrier, Manny had been worked into a tight corner when the enemy stormed their base. All his comrades had been "killed" and he was the only one left. And by "killed" he meant "stunned". The modified MA5B's utilised thirty stun rounds, half the amount of live ammunition they could carry. The stun rounds basically knocked the player unconscious for a brief amount of time, effectively throwing them to the floor. The annoying thing was, they hurt like hell and used an electrical impulse to knock them out. And each member of his squad had taken more than a few when the opposing force had entered the complex.

The sound of gunfire and a spray of bullets rattled overhead. The small wooden table he had turned over in the heat of the moment had proven to save his skin, but he was being worked out, and with superior numbers, it wouldn't take them long. The large room was littered with strewn tables and chairs where his squad had been taken to pieces and fallen this way and that. At the far end, by the only door in to the room, the enemy sat. They knew that they could rush Manny, but could easily be cut down if he were to poke his gun over the top. Using smoke grenades and going in without being seen by him was their best option.

And it seemed to be working; Manny didn't have a clue who was or wasn't in the room anymore. He checked his rifle. He had ten rounds left in the clip, and a further three magazines on him. They had also been issued two smoke grenades each and an F-5 pistol, with three spare clips. He had only used his rifle and that was covering himself when diving behind the overturned table. They had come completely without warning, which was no surprise considering Fincher was in charge.

He and Fincher had gotten on extremely well when put together in training ops, and it looked like Pom had seen this. They would use simple rush-in, pull-out tactics, obliterating any opposition that got in their way. So he put Manny in charge of one squad and Fincher in charge of the other. And by the look of it, Fincher was about to win.

Another spray of bullets caused Manny to duck down further. He had to act, and soon. He glanced over the splintered wood and saw a shadow near the doorway. The smoke had cleared to the top of the room now, and Manny could see that the room was still empty, with the exception of his downed, and now semi-conscious, team-mates. The first one to go had been Greggs. He was covering the door when they charged. He had been thrown back onto Tanya and another one of their team, knocking them clean off of their feet. If it hadn't been for Greggs' size, they may have been able to do something, but he had become a visible obstruction when he got hit, and the enemy simply sprayed the room, taking everyone out.

"Christ" he cursed. He fired the remaining rounds out of his clip over near the doorway. Slamming a new clip home, he dived from his cover, rolled over to the right side of the room, and snuck up behind another overturned table. Hopefully, the sounds of him diving and rolling weren't too loud, despite the clunky body armour. It was standard UNSC Marine Corps body armour, designed to keep out any unwanted bullets. He had lost the helmet when he went diving for cover, and almost lost one of his boots as well.

He peered over the edge of the downed table, and noticed a foot coming through the door, accompanied by a battle rifle. But it was pointed over to where Manny had been, which was what he had hoped for. Now he just had to sit tight and wait for more to come in, then he could take them. The room was still smoky, and it was difficult to tell who it was that had just come in. As the first man came completely through the door, a second man started to make his way in behind him. The two men walked slowly over to the other side of the room. As they neared their destination, one of them motioned to the door. Two more figures appeared through the mist, and to Manny's surprise and horror, they started edging over to where he was hiding.

He forced himself down to the ground, hoping they hadn't seen him. He waited till he was sure they had come to a stop then carefully raised himself up to see over the table. The two figures, one insanely big in his armour, stood with the backs to Manny, their rifles pointed at where he had been originally. Perfect.

He jumped up, grabbed the large man round the neck and kicked out at the second person, sending them to the floor. Many jammed his rifle up and fired across the room, catching both interlopers in the chest. As they went down, they fired off a few stun rounds, catching Manny's human shield in the stomach and chest. The body went limp and he eased it down to the floor. Laying the huge frame down, he noticed it was Harris, and took great pride in mentally noting that it was his own team who had shot him, albeit accidentally. He quickly moved over to the enemy he had kicked down.

Grabbing at the persons shoulders, he yanked them up. Twisting them round to face away from him, he pulled out his pistol and jammed it into the side of their helmet.
"Move and your...unconscious." Manny whispered, trying to make it sound serious. He put his other arm around their chest, and pulled them in. The person gave a feminine grunt and he realised it was Grace. He managed a smile to himself; this would be payback for yesterday's CTF match. He marched her over to the door, making sure he was well hidden behind her. "Alright!" he yelled "I got one of your men hostage. Lay down your weapons and come out where I can see you."

There was a murmur from beyond the door, followed by the clattering of rifles. The stocky frame of Fincher came into view, his hand raised. He had a bemused look on his face. Two more men came into view. Manny knew them as Cochran and Walker. They had been good friends from the start, and pretty good warriors, too. He liked them, although Walker was a bit on the mellow side.

"You got us," Fincher said, a wry grin on his face. The other two looked warily at Manny. He pushed Grace out through the door, moving towards the three men. As he did so, he heard a metallic click, and felt the sensation of cold metal against his neck.

"Shit." Manny muttered. He peered to his left and saw his beloved girlfriend with her F-5 pointed straight at him. A grin covered her face. "You bitch."

"Orders are orders," she said, her grin widening. "Now, are you gonna come quietly? Or am I going to have to shoot you?"

"Neither," Manny replied. As he did, he nudged his shoulder up, knocking the barrel out of the way of his head. He pushed Grace forwards, sending her sprawling with the others. He grabbed Sarah's arm, holding the gun away from him, and fired at the others, taking them all out with one shot to the chest. He pulled Sarah into him, wrapping his arms around here, forcing her to drop her weapon.

"Sorry," he whispered into her ear. He pointed the gun into the back of her thigh and pulled the trigger, sending a stun round into the flesh. She screamed in pain, but fell limp within a few seconds. He laid her down gently, and kissed her forehead. He reached for the radio in his back pocket, pulled it free and clicked the handset on.

"This is Delta Team leader, all enemy targets neutralised. Repeat, all targets neutralised." He waited for a response. He looked down at the prone bodies of Walker, Fincher, Cochran and Grace. They lay in a tangle on the floor, limbs hanging at odd angles, their heads tilted back at funny angles. It looked like they had been out on an all night bender.

"Delta Team Leader, this is HQ. Roger that, we are sending an evac team now. Repeat, evac team is on the way. ETA is three minutes. HQ, out."

Manny holstered his pistol and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall. He pulled Sarah over to him and rest her head in his lap. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it and took a deep puff, and waited for his girlfriend to come round, waited for the slap he deserved.




"I can't believe you shot me." Sarah growled at he boyfriend. She jabbed him in the ribs as they sat eating in the mess hall. He shot her a wry grin and went back to fingering a piece of corn bread. Both squads were sitting eating now in one of the many mess halls in the training camp. They thought it would be a good idea to celebrate Manny's almost single-handed victory at taking out an eight-man squad. Fincher had taken the beating in good jest, commending his friend on what he did, but he would get his revenge, he was sure of that.

He sat the other side of Manny, with Walker and Greggs opposite them, flanked by Grace, Tanya and another woman from the opposing squad. The rest of the people sat spread down the one bench, with Harris, Fincher noticed, a considerable distance from the rest of them. It was odd how he and the larger man got along fine, but Harris just couldn't seem to stand Manny. Grace had told him about what happened between the two when they were on leave, how Harris had took a severe pasting from Manny's father. Fincher had noticed the rivalry between the two of them the moment they stepped onto the camp.

Manny seemed to bat it away, but Harris held things inside, bottle them up and remembered them for later. That was probably why Fincher found himself closer to Manny than he had the other man. He picked up his fork and tucked into the piece of meat that sat on his plate. Chewing rigorously, he grabbed at his water pitcher and gulped down the cool liquid. The exercise had worn him out, worn everyone out, and they were all hungry as hell. Mess hall food had never tasted so good.

"So when am I going to get the chance to beat your ass down?" he said to Manny. The younger man looked up at him, his face breaking into a smile. He could see why Sarah was attracted to Manny. He was tall, thin and good looking, and Fincher wasn't afraid to admit it.

"What do you mean when?" he smirked, shovelling food into his mouth. "There will be no chance, my friend," he said round the mouthful of food. "Besides, if we're up against each other again, I'm sure Sarah will be on you team, and it will mean I'll have to shoot her again." Another poke in the ribs from Sarah emitted grunt from Manny, as well as laughter from the others.

"That was a good plan you had going, there Finchy boy." Greggs exclaimed, who had been the first to go down. "I didn't know what hit me."

"I did!" shouted Tanya, still nursing a badly bruised arm from being flattened by the huge frame of Greggs. Laughter rang out at the comment and Greggs swung an arm round her, pulling her into a hug. She grinned up at him and lightly kissed him on the cheek "But I forgive you. After all, it wasn't your fault."

"I knew he was going to do it." Manny piped up, "I now how you work, my dear friend." He said, pointing at Fincher. Fincher made a vein grab at his finger but caught thin air as Manny retracted his hand.

"Bullshit, you did." Fincher sipped at his water. "You were more surprised about it than anyone else. Believe me, I saw you jump over that table the moment Greggs went flying."

"I was just getting into position." Manny's face flushed a little, a shy smile crossing his face. "And besides, did I take you all out?"

"Yeah," Walker said, rubbing his chest. "Those stun rounds hurt at close range."

"Especially," Sarah started "if its someone from your own team." They went silent for a moment and all peered down the length of the table at Harris. He sat hunched over a plate of food, slowly stirring it with his fork. He had taken the beating badly, and the embarrassment of being shot by one of his own team mates made it even worse. And to top it all, Manny had come out the hero by single-handedly winning the scenario. Fincher felt sorry for the private, but his own arrogance separated him from the others. Even Greggs, who started out as one of his closest friends didn't really talk to him any more.
Fincher pulled out a packet of cigarettes and took two out, handing one to Manny. He lit his and took a long drag on it. "So what we got for the rest of the day?"

"Just workshops," Grace replied. She seemed a little downhearted, which Fincher put down to losing at today's exercise. She never took losing well. "And a meeting at eighteen hundred hours at our barracks."

"Know what it's about?" Manny asked, to which Grace shrugged and shook her head. Fincher sucked on the white stick, blowing smoke rings as he exhaled. Workshops were always boring, but they taught the Marines how to utilise their weapons to their best ability, as well as teaching them how to fix them in the field. If your weapon jammed in the middle of the battle it could cost you your life.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw their bald drill instructor Pom sitting with two men he didn't recognise.

They seemed to be examining Fincher and the others a little too closely. The two men looked just as mean and battle-hardened as Pom did, and Fincher saw the rank insignias of Corporal and Sergeant on their uniforms. The Corporal caught Fincher's eye, and the two locked gazes for a split second before Fincher turned away. Better to leave them alone and think about what the rest of the day offered.





"Who's that?" Corporal Harland said, nodding in the direction of Private Fincher. The bulky Corporal took a puff on his cigarette, then exhaled quickly. Next to him sat Sergeant Raynes, his commanding officer. Raynes looked over at the table, eyeing up the Private. They both turned to Pom, sitting opposite them. The drill instructor turned around, showing Harland just how shiny the back of the man's head was.

"Fincher." Pom replied. "Good man. Good tactician. You'll like him." In the fifteen years that Harland had known Pom, he had never heard the man utter more than a few words at any one time. Even when he yelled at his men, it was short and sharp. He was to the point, liked to get things done quickly, which was why Harland had gotten on with the man. The men sat at the table had been good friends since they met, serving in the same squad. Even their promotions hadn't separated them. Then Pom lost his right arm and couldn't fight any more, taking up a position here at Camp Utah.

"Will I now?" Harland replied. Rayes smirked. "What?" Harland snapped.

"Never mind." The Sergeant shook his head and sipped at a mug of coffee. "The eltee will like these guys. They got a lot of character." Raynes took another sip of coffee, set the mug down and leaned back in his chair. Harland looked back over to the table of recruits.

"How is McCasky?" Pom asked. "Still keeping the platoon together?"

"Yeah, he's doing fine." Raynes replied. "When are we being introduced to these suckers?"

"Six." Pom replied sharply. "In their barracks." Harland took another puff on his cigarette then stubbed it out in a near-by tin tray. He looked over at the recruits and saw two of them kissing.

"Who are the love birds?" Harland spat. Pom looked round again.

"Jon 'Manny' Manors and Sarah McCain. Been together since they came back from leave a few days ago."

"You know relationships between squadies isn't good, Pom." Raynes said. Pom looked up at the man, a smile on his face.

"Don't worry, they are both exceptional soldiers. What happens in their private life doesn't affect the way they work when fighting together." He chewed on a mouthful of food for a moment then continued. "In fact, in today's op, he shot her!" he laughed loudly, and Raynes gave a slight smile at the comment.

"I suppose it can't hurt," Harland said "You can't help who you love." The three men finished their meals in silence then left the mess hall and prepared to meet the troops that they were to take command of for the rest of their lives.

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